All of Muryangsa Temple- write By Kong Kwangkyu

I went to hug my wife for the first time in a long timeand she asked, “How much do you love me?”Confounded by the way my wife, aging like a dried pollackspoke as if we were on our honeymoonI mindlessly threw back at her the confounding answer“Monumentally!”Monumentally?!After that day, like the Muryangsa Temple built with flesh and bonesshe cooks in the kitchenand cleans in the bathroomand watches TV in the living roomwhen I come home after drinking all nightshe’ll wail like an instrumentbut on days the children do well in schoolshe’ll ring bright like a belland on nights when the bed is relatively warmshe makes the sound of breeze brushing against the floral temple door